


hell is but a home on earth

by hibouxx



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Blood and Gore, Bullying, Child Abandonment, Death in Childbirth, Demons, Drug Dealing, Gangs, Graphic Birth Scene, Horror, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knife Violence, M/M, Murder, Non-Linear Narrative, Orphanage, Religious Cults, Supernatural Elements, Xenophobia, parental neglect, religious discourses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibouxx/pseuds/hibouxx
Summary: Minhyung’s hometown is somewhere in the far north of Gangwondo, ways away from the bustle of the city. It’s perpetually shrouded in mist and crammed full of haunting stories that seem to effectively keep outsiders away, more than the remoteness that erects a figurative barrier around it.This is the story of how a man and his two children found their way past the sprawling fields and long, deserted road to a sleepy little town  that carries secrets of generations past.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Nakamoto Yuta, Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 20
Kudos: 75





	hell is but a home on earth

**Author's Note:**

> So this turned out darker than i expected, please do heed the warnings before you proceed!
> 
> This was supposed to be posted for Halloween, but as usual, I’m quite late for it... 
> 
> i have harajukucrepes to thank for the title (again!) and the motivation and several helpful inputs ;u; you’re the best
> 
> warning: mark is 18 here while yuta is in his late 20s
> 
> more warnings: unbeta-ed, mistakes everywhere! i'll come back to correct them later

The bus comes to a rumbling stop at the local terminal on a warm afternoon, when the moon is a translucent circle in the sky, hanging perfectly next to the setting sun. Yuta reclines against the bus seat and ignores the awful scratching in his throat, the wave of despondency held securely in his chest.

He startles at the sudden movement to his side.

“I can hear your stomach!” His little boy not so subtly points out, a little scandalised, directing an accusatory finger at his sister. Yoona buries her face in Yuta’s chest with a quiet, ‘no you can’t!’ and lets her brother get away with the crassness for now, later, Yuta knows she’ll have her revenge in some form. 

“Don’t pick on your sister. She only had a juicebox since we left the terminal.”

“That’s because she’s a pi-picky eater!” 

Yuta pinches his boy’s soft cheek between his fingers but he’s unable to keep the frown on his face at the sight of Yoonoh’s tiny lips jutting out sulkily. He presses a kiss on each of their sweaty little heads, soaking up the unnatural warmth radiating from both of them.

He looks out the window while the passengers file out of the bus in haste, watching the late afternoon sun wash over the town quietly, the last rays casting a shadow over the cross on the spire of a building that looks out of place in the town surrounded by rice fields and isolation, leaving an oppressive impression in Yuta’s mind. The cross glows a brilliant red amidst the impending darkness, reclaiming the night in place of the sun.

He takes a long look at the two pairs of dark, wandering eyes, the coil of tension in his gut unfurling like rain lilies blooming under the moonlight. He smiles, “Let’s go.” 

—

Minhyung’s hometown is somewhere in the far north of Gangwondo, ways away from the bustle of the city. It’s perpetually shrouded in mist and crammed full of haunting stories that seem to effectively keep outsiders away, more than the remoteness that erects a figurative barrier around it.

There’s few townspeople who venture outside and come back and it’s almost unheard of to have city people moving in unless there’s something or someone they’re running away from, so it comes as no surprise that the rumoured newcomers become the talk of the small community on the same day they move into the abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of the town. Minhyung doesn’t know why anyone would willingly move into that part of town; he’s passed by that farmhouse many times on his motorbike and he knows it’s far from the welcoming home one would think it is, not to mention the perpetual gloom that seems to hang over it.

_“I heard his wife died.”_

_“I heard the kids aren’t his, they look nothing like him!”_

_“Maybe he kidnapped them, that's why they’re in hiding.”_

“Hey, don’t get distracted. Let’s finish handing these out, I wanna be home before dinner time.” Minhyung tears his gaze away from the group of middle aged ladies with their fresh gossip for the day and looks at the younger boy who‘s standing next to him with a permanent surly look on his face. Donghyuck is one of the few boys around his age at the church, so they’re stuck doing everything together most of the time, despite their differing opinions. The preparation for the service, the clean up after, the flyer distribution and everything else the younger followers of the church are expected to do, he does with Donghyuck, to both of their disdain. 

Their parents think they get along perfectly, and they do within their duties but once they’re away from watchful eyes, Donghyuck adopts a more cynical tone. Donghyuck’s parents are loyal followers of the church and have been under the guidance of the supreme leader for as long as his family has lived in town, so he attends to his duties to the church out of obligation, despite his tactless skepticism. Minhyung is the complete opposite.

“I wasn’t listening in on them.” He lies through his teeth.

“You were, the leader wouldn’t like it if he finds out you were slacking off, listening to gossiping women who have nothing better to do.”

“Donghyuck.” He says in warning and accidentally thrusts a flyer in an unsuspecting bypasser’s hand too hard. He looks up in alarm, hoping he hadn’t accidentally given someone a papercut, but he’s caught speechless by the unfamiliar face in front of him. He sees Donghyuck stiffen beside him too, also realising who they might be looking at.

In a small town like theirs, everyone knows each other, and this face is too distinctly memorable to be someone they’ve already seen before.

The man smiles at them and bends to the waist for a proper, deep bow even though it’s obvious that they’re younger than him, before walking away. Gone as quick as he’d arrived. He leaves behind the beguiling scent of delicately blooming roses and the image of stunning, soulful eyes burned in Minhyung’s mind.

He doesn’t realise he’s staring at the man’s retreating back until Donghyuck nudges him, his annoyance growing as the seconds tick away with Minhyung’s jaw still slack and his hand still stuck mid air.

—

The old, derelict farmhouse is nothing like their cramped apartment in Itaewon. The closest neighbour is at least thirty minutes away on foot and the town centre is twice as far. The kids won’t be going to school so Yuta doesn’t have to worry about transportation just yet. For now, they can manage with just that old bicycle he saw by the shed. 

One thing is for sure, the house still needs a lot of work before it becomes anything closely resembling a home.

“Papa, there’s no beds.” Yoona is the first to get his attention after they’re done surveying the rooms, looking up at him with a pinched expression that doesn’t belong on her cherubic face, the tiny indents on her cheeks more prominent than ever. He smooths the frown away with his thumb and beckons her and her brother closer.

“There’s some blankets in our bags, we can put them together just for tonight. Papa will get a proper mattress tomorrow when I go to town.”

The rooms are bare and the walls are a sickly shade of cream with water stains from the ceiling, some of the light bulbs aren’t working. His babies are normally well adapted to terrible living conditions but even they aren’t prepared for something like this. There’s a persistent stillness that masks the absence of birdsong and the wind whistles as it ruffles the pine and gingko trees surrounding the house. Growing up in the perpetually loud alleys of Itaewon, the twins are a little more apprehensive of the silence. He holds both of them close as they take in the mustiness that clings to the air.

“Are we staying here forever?” Yoonoh asks in a small voice and Yuta wonders if they prefer the unpredictability of the big city over the mundaneness of the countryside. They’re too young to be perfectly aware of the nuances but they’ve always been more observant than most kids. They are, after all, very special.

“Hopefully, if things go well.”

“And if they don’t?” 

Yuta smiles at the pair as his little girl wraps her small arms around his hips, “Then we’ll figure it out from there.” he lets them bask in his scent, aware of how it calms them, before he adds, softly:

“Everything’s gonna be alright, as long as we’re together.” 

—

As with all small and remote communities, the town’s ageing population is privy to everyone’s business and no one is ashamed of it. That means some of the more unsettling and sometimes controversial stories make rounds in every household before it’s disproved. There’s no smoke without fire, Minhyung’s classmates often say, and many of the stories have plausible basis while the rest are just byproducts of unwarranted competition between neighbours and the overactive imagination of small town kids.

“Do you know the story about that old farmhouse?” Donghyuck is one of those who are easily lured in by anything remotely unexplainable, he’s also persistent when he sets his mind onto something and that’s one of the many things Minhyung finds exhausting about him. He refuses to believe in the supreme leader’s words but he doesn’t dare question any of the inconsistencies in the so-called encounters students will regularly post on their school forums.

“The leader wouldn't be happy knowing you’re taking part in the rumours.” Minhyung takes the words right out of Donghyuck’s mouth. His lips twitch in his effort to hold back a small smile, proud of his small victories. The younger boy ignores him and continues unfazed,

“They say everyone who’s lived there had some sort of unfortunate accident or moved out within the month. The closest neighbours say they hear cries of pain coming from there at night even when it was empty. That’s why it hadn’t been occupied all this time.”

“You know that’s not true. The last family who lived there had to move back to Chuncheon because their son had to go to university.”

Donghyuck frowns at his very logical explanation, “but that doesn’t explain the other ones before that.”

“The house has a bad drainage system, the ceiling has leakage problems, it’s too far from the town centre, I don’t know Donghyuck, there’s many reasons why no one would want to live there longer than a few weeks.” 

“Then why do you think someone so young would wanna live there, or in this town actually, with his two very young kids?” 

“That’s completely beside the point.” Minhyung shrugs and wipes down the ceremonial chalice that Donghyuck missed when he was cleaning up. It’s not that he’s dismissing the younger man’s misgivings; he simply doesn’t think anyone with such kind eyes is capable of anything dubious and the implications don’t sit well with him. 

—

Yuta’s hands close around the tiny white tablets sheathed in a clear ziplock. Small and inconspicuous but worth more than five of his payslips. He closes his eyes and imagines how it must be like, to not give a damn about the world, to throw ridiculous amounts of money for a few hours of absolute ecstasy. He’s tempted to find out, but he can’t afford to. He pockets the drugs and swallows the lump in his throat.

The moon is bright tonight, illuminating the darkened spaces in between the streetlights where they’re tucked in, and the face of the man whose eyes drank in Yuta’s uneasiness with a grin. He’s high strung, as with every time he accepts the valuable package. Yuta flinches at the distant sound of laughter, and his eyes land on the source just a block away. It’s just another group of foreigners coming out of the usual seedy club with armfuls of cheap prostitutes.

“You know that if you fuck this up, you’re dead.”

“I won’t.” It’s a promise, albeit a shaky one, more to himself than to the older man languidly tapping his foot against the concrete.

“Can I get my pay now?”

“Not until those are delivered.” Yuta’s throat constricts and he feels fear coil tighter and tighter in his belly with every passing second. 

“But sir, last week, I didn’t -”

“You handed it to the wrong person.”

“But they told me they knew the client and I-”

“Yuta.” The man groans and forces Yuta to take a step back when he bares his teeth in irritation, “You risked blowing our cover. That could very well have been an undercover cop. You don’t get paid for nearly putting us in jeopardy.”

He swallows the retort at the tip of his tongue. Rent is due tomorrow morning and he hasn’t completely paid off the damage for one clumsy mistake he made at work: an entire box-full of soju smashed to smithereens. He might really get kicked out this time, if his landlord is feeling vindictive enough, and that possibility isn’t very far fetched with how many times he’s been told off about the suspicious-looking men lurking at his door at odd hours.

“I understand. I’ll do my best.”

—

The weight of the bag in his hands is far from the heftiness that should be expected for a family of three. It’s fine, Yuta thinks, this isn’t exactly the first time they have to move and their source of income completely slashed. He loads the grocery bags into the makeshift basket at the back of the bicycle that he fashioned out of an old tupperware he found in their kitchen. Yuta mounts the bicycle and is about to pedal away when he’s stopped midway by a middle aged lady with her own bag of groceries in each hand. She must’ve seen him at the store just now.

“Are you that new guy who moved into the old farmhouse? Is it true that there are strange incidents happening there?” 

The question doesn’t throw him off. He’s aware of the attention they seemed to have garnered since moving into the farm house. He smothers the instinctive need to get away and get back to his children, who are alone in that old house, and instead plasters a forced smile on his face.

“Yes that’s me.”

“Oh how very rude of me, dumping that on you out of the blue.” The woman smiles with her eyes, her stencilled eyebrows disappearing under her permed bangs, “My name is Yeonhwa, and I run the bakery over there with my husband.” she points to a small, rundown shop with faded sighboards across the road.

“Nice to meet you.” Yuta bows deeply, a habit ingrained from countless, mostly unpleasant, experiences, “and no we’ve not encountered anything out of the ordinary so far,” and he thinks there are far more terrifying things outside the house’s stained walls and barbed wire fences.

“What a polite young man! As expected of someone from the city. And that’s good to know, we wouldn’t want you scrambling to move out so soon. This town needs more new and younger faces.” Her laughter sounds forced and Yuta’s hand tightens around the flimsy rubber handle of the bicycle when she casually adds, “I also heard you have two little kids. They’re too late for the school year aren’t they?”

“They’re not going to school.” His eyes dart around, looking for any chance of escape. This is exactly the kind of conversation he hasn’t been conditioned for. He begins to question why he entertained it in the first place but remembers they’re supposed to blend in, not stand out.

“Are they not old enough yet?”

“They are, but they’re not used to meeting so many people at once. They were homeschooled before.” 

“Then why-” 

“Auntie! No one’s at your store, we want to get some custard buns!” A shrill voice effectively cuts through the conversation and Yuta breathes a sigh of relief at the interruption. A pair of boys run up to the lady, the one who just screamed looks at him in mild, passing interest while the other, taller, boy fidgets with nervous energy. They’re the young church boys he saw distributing flyers outside the town hall a few days ago.

“Donghyuck! Don’t you know not to interrupt when people are talking!?” The Yeonghwa scolds the shorter boy while the latter feigns innocence with a small pout. He eyes the taller boy; he looks bland and unimpressive enough not to warrant a second look but Yuta finds himself drawn to his bashfulness and apparent introversion.

“But auntie, Minhyung and I have to rush back for the evening service and we’re starving.” _Minhyung_ , Yuta notes the name in silence.

“Don’t they feed you boys enough there? Fine let’s go.” Yuta finally perks up in understanding when he sees the presumably younger boy flash the other with a discreet thumbs up as soon as the woman starts walking in the direction of her store and he finds himself turning towards _Minhyung_ , now sure that the conveniently timed interjection is anything but a chance encounter.

“Thank you.” Yuta finally says when the other boy leaves their side to follow Yeonhwa, and watches Minhyung’s eyes widen in surprise, as if he hadn’t been expecting to be acknowledged. Yuta almost laughs at the face he makes, “for getting her off my back. I really needed the interruption.”

“Y-you’re welcome!” The young boy bows deeply, a little flustered for some reason, and Yuta doesn’t miss the snicker from the other boy who’s already halfway across the street where he stopped to observe them. “They really shouldn’t be bugging you like that…” He trails off and looks away. Yuta’s convinced he’s about to make a run for where his friend is impatiently watching them. He plants his foot on one of the pedals just as the boy speaks again, this time with more confidence, “My name is Minhyung.”

Yuta smiles and wonders why he feels a strange sense of ease around someone he’s only met twice. “Yuta.” he offers, realising much, much later that Minhyung is the first person he’s given his name to, in this sleepy little town.

—

There’s a woman sobbing to his right and a man on his knees with his forehead on the floor in front of him. His eyes close on their own accord as he chants his own prayers. His words are drowned out by the cries for salvation and the leader’s deep voice bouncing off the walls.

“Do you see it, my children? The path to salvation. The gates to heaven.” 

Minhyung’s clasped hands shake when he hears the sound of a body falling into a heap on the floor. It’s not uncommon during the service, as people get carried away by their emotions, by the gripping desperation, but it doesn’t get less unsettling.

“All evil shall perish and together we will ascend to heaven-”

He sees Donghyuck staring blankly ahead one row away from him and knows he isn’t imagining the younger boy squirming in place, legs folded uncomfortably under him as he joins in on the chorus of ‘Amen’.

He meets Minhyung’s eyes over a wailing man’s head, his doubt casting a shadow over his face. The younger boy corners him in the kitchens after the service, offering him a glass of water and trying to be unobtrusive for once, “The crowd is a little extreme today.”

“They’re like that all the time.” Minhyung takes the offered glass and looks at the pinched expression Donghyuck wears over his incredulity.

“If you think this is normal, I-”

“Stop. You don’t want anyone to hear you.” No one deserves to have their faith trampled on. Minhyung pulls away, ignoring the flush of anger under his skin. It doesn’t matter if there are those who doubt, as long as there’s people like them who continue to believe.

—

The blanket is thin and scratchy and offers little relief from the early autumn chill. They never turn the heaters up in the older kids’ room, so the least they could do is offer them thicker blankets. Yuta won’t ever voice that thought however, they’re already doing him a favour by feeding him, sheltering him and providing the clothes on his back. Really, there’s hardly anything to complain about except for the blankets and the occasional rude teenagers who pick on the younger kids.

Twenty seconds.

It takes exactly twenty seconds before he hears the light pattering of footsteps and feels the bed dip behind him as he automatically scoots over and sighs in contentment. Lanky arms wrap around him from behind, pulling him close so he can leech off the warmth that radiates from the other boy’s body. 

“Jae you’ll get in trouble.” It was cute when they were little, but it gets more and more inconvenient as they grow older and their relationship becomes a topic of question amongst the orphanage staff. Two pre-teen boys snuggled close in a single bed is not a pleasant sight to behold first thing in the morning, their caretakers once told them in exasperation, but their warnings have never deterred the younger boy from sneaking out of his room and into the one Yuta shares with other, older kids.

“It’s fine. I can go back to my bed before the wake up call.” Yuta hushes him when he speaks a little too loud. The last thing they want is for any of Yuta’s roommates to stir awake and report Jaehyun, then they might really be put in separate wings, just like how they were separated into different rooms.

“You’re so stubborn.”

“But you want me here.” Jaehyun bites back in amusement and nuzzles closer. Yuta’s hand unconsciously drapes over Jaehyun’s. That, he’s right about, but the older boy doesn’t have to say it. Yuta _knows_ he knows.

“Fine, but I won’t give you my share of cookies and juicebox tomorrow.”

“Who are you kidding, hyung” And he’s right, Yuta acknowledges with a groan. He’ll give Jaehyun his chocolate chip cookies and grapefruit juice even if he doesn’t ask for them. Always.

—

There’s no more queue at the local grocer by the time Minhyung’s class ends. His mother asked him to fetch vegetables for stew that night because her hands are full with the new recruits at the church so she won’t be home until much later. 

That’s how he spots Yuta, standing in front of the canned goods section with a blank look on his face. He looks younger when he’s not sporting that oversized coat he seems to fancy, but Minhyung wonders if he isn’t cold with just a long-sleeved shirt in the current weather.

“Oh hey.” The older man says when he somehow sees Minhyung approaching with timid little steps. He swallows the lump in his throat, unsure himself why Yuta makes him so nervous. It must be because he’s very different from the kind of people Minhyung is used to dealing with.

The older man seems to be appraising Minhyung’s rumpled uniform and the missing school-issued jacket, “Are you supposed to be at school?”

“I just finished my classes.”

“Then, church?”

“Not today. I have a big test coming this Friday. My brother is helping my parents out instead.” Yuta nods tensely before grabbing a can of spam from the shelf. Minhyung notices that his basket is empty except for a carton of eggs and the spam he deposits right next to it.

“Is that all for dinner?”

“Yeah, I’ll make some rice with it. The house isn’t really expensive but it’s still going to take a while before we can make back all the money we used for moving.” 

Minhyung stops at the new information. Yuta looks so put together sometimes that it’s easy to forget that he lives in a deserted farm with two young kids and that he’s unemployed, among other things. It’s probably the fact that he looks decidedly foreign with a Japanese sounding name that Minhyung easily assumed the family has some stable source of income from elsewhere.

He grabs another can of spam and dumps it in Yuta’s basket, to the older man’s surprise. Minhyung is immediately mesmerised by how big his eyes are and how well they fit into the rest of his features, at that moment.

“What’s that for?” 

“I’ll pay for it.” Minhyung says and pride swells in his chest at once. It isn’t everyday that he gets the chance to help, the supreme leader would be very proud of him for sure. 

“And you shouldn’t. You’re just a student yourself.”

“I saved up a lot from my allowances!”

“That doesn’t mean you should waste them on strangers.” Minhyung falters at being referred to as a stranger but he’s more determined that he lets on. Donghyuck’s influence, he thinks.

“Don’t you have two kids? I’m sure that won’t be enough for all of you. It’s fine, you can pay me back once you’re doing better.” 

Yuta sighs deeply but Minhyung knows he’s won the argument when the man turns on his heels and lets Minhyung follow him to the counter with his shopping basket. “I’m applying for a cleaning job at the town hall, so I’ll try to pay you back in a few weeks—” 

Minhyung stops to regard the man carefully and is once again stunned by his beauty. Before he realises what he’s doing, he interrupts Yuta with a meek “Is it okay if I call you hyung?”

When the older man’s lips twitch in a ghost of a smile, Minhyung finds himself doing the same.

“Sure, of course.”

—

Yuta watches Jaehyun fiddle with the pendant hanging below his collarbones. It’s summer, so the younger boy is wearing a tank top with a collar that hangs low enough to reveal his most treasured possession: a silver cross hanging from his neck. It was wrapped around his little ankle when he was found at the local church as a baby. To Jaehyun, it’s one of the only things tying him to his biological family.

“Hyung, do you think she’s alive?” He asks, in a moment of weakness, dirt crusted under his fingernails after they finish planting the cuttings from the single rose bush in their secret garden. It’s because the bush only sprouts two fully blooming roses every spring, which Jaehyun aptly names Yoonoh and Yoona, that they decide to try propagating, hoping it will have better chances of producing more rose buds in the future.

Yuta feels compelled to draw closer despite the heat, so he does, and lets Jaehyun lean against his bony shoulder. They both stink with sweat and there’s dirt all the way up Jaehyun’s cheeks but he doesn’t mind it even a little bit.

“She might be. Or you could be getting your hopes up again.” 

“I’m not.” The shorter boy stubbornly clarifies and then turns to Yuta, “getting my hopes up I mean. I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I may never meet her. I just sometimes wonder if she’s still out there. If she remembers me.”

“But why?” Yuta asks, nose scrunched up, _Why do you need her when you have me?_ He wants to say but his lips press together instead. He feels them crack and he tastes blood when he licks them out of habit. The salty, metallic taste reminds him of all the times he’d been shoved into dirt and thrown around by the older boys at the orphanage for having a non-Korean name. 

His father was Japanese, the pastor told him many years ago, so he’d taken his name. He’s Korean by default and doesn’t speak a word of Japanese, and yet it seems half the blood that courses through his veins and the unfamiliarity of his name are enough to be consistently singled out.

“Because sometimes it counts to know that you didn’t come from nothing. That you have a story outside this place, somehow...” Yuta’s hands tighten into fists and he would’ve turned away if Jaehyun didn't hold onto his arm like he knows about the storm brewing in Yuta’s heart. 

“Aren’t I enough? Aren’t I your family too?” He asks, ashamed of the bitterness that rolls off his tongue. Jaehyun doesn’t bat an eye, nor does he push him away despite his selfishness, instead he pulls Yuta closer. He’s leaving tracks of dirt on Yuta’s pristine white t-shirt and they’ll surely be scolded for it later but he doesn’t have the heart to push the younger boy away.

“You are enough.” Jaehyun assures, “It’s just, you know what they say. That you can’t properly start new stories before you end the ones you left unfinished.” He gives Yuta the same dimpled smile he’s grown accustomed to waking up to for as long as Jaehyun is able to sneak into his bed undetected. He blinks away the frustration burning behind his eyelids and finally lets Jaehyun draw him in an embrace.

He feels the cross dig into the skin of his chest, and he takes a deep breath, catching the fragrance of the blooming rose over Jaehyun’s own scent.

—

“What is this papa?” Yoonoh climbs over Yuta’s back in excitement, almost making Yuta faceplant on dirt if not for his quick reflexes. He supports the boy’s weight as he turns into the embrace and finds his son’s dimpled cheeks spotted with soil and sweat. Yoonoh reveals the small, green tomato in his little hand.

“That’s a young tomato. Where did you find that?” He looks over his son’s head and sees Yoona digging on the other side of the property with her bare hands. He shouldn’t really let them do that, he doesn’t want them to be sick with a stomach bug when they’ve barely settled into their new home.

“Found it over there!” The boy confirms Yuta’s suspicions when he points at where his twin is still hunched over with relentless determination. 

“The previous owners must’ve planted those from last summer.” He says as explanation before he goes back to the task of flattening the earth over the single stem sticking out from it. 

“What is that?” The boy asks again, this time pointing at the stem cutting, wonder clear in his voice. 

“This is a rose plant.” 

“Like in our picture books?”

“Like in your picture books, yes.” Yoonoh rolls with the small tomato in his hand and presses his cheek against Yuta’s.

“But where’s the rose?”

“We have to wait for it to take root before we see the buds.” Yuta feels a little proud knowing his twins will see a rose bloom for the first time in their lives in a few short weeks. It wouldn't have been possible under any normal conditions, especially with the chill that’s begun to settle around the town, but nothing has ever been normal for them.

Yuta looks back at the farm house and sees a silhouette through the window of their bedroom from the corner of his eye and smiles.

This rose will bloom beautifully, he’s sure of it.

—

Yuta pulls Jaehyun away from the chaos and takes the brunt of the impact when they fall into a heap on the muddy ground. It’s been raining a lot the last few days and there’s surely no saving Yuta’s favourite t-shirt, now stained with blood and dirt. Twenty seconds, it took Jaehyun exactly twenty seconds to run across the sprawling field to where Yuta had been tackled to the ground.

“What’s happening here!?” It’s one of the new volunteers, the youngest one from the batch. Yuta cradles Jaehyun to his chest and lets the younger teen stifle his anger into his sullied t-shirt with a heavy exhale. He sees the red marks on Jaehyun’s pale arms beginning to darken into an ominous purple and he sucks in a breath.

“They attacked me!”

“Fuck you, you Japanese runt!” One of the boys spits out, his lips bloodied after Jaehyun’s well-aimed punches. Jaehyun is small but his punches sure packs power.

“Language young man!” A caretaker comes running around the corner right at that moment. She kneels by Jaehyun and Yuta’s side and examines the bruise Yuta’s sure is beginning to bloom across his jaw. Jaehyun pulls away to face the newcomers.

“They’re picking on Yuta so I punched them.” The girl looks scandalised by the sudden admission and Yuta wonders if she missed the part where it’s supposedly self defense.

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“And right in front of the chapel too!” The volunteer keeps the older boys at bay while Jaehyun is escorted to detention. The commotion fades into the background as Yuta’s eyes fall on the giant cross at the altar, visible through the doorway of the chapel, looming like a shadow over his head. An unexplainable weight grips his heart when he remembers the words Jaehyun softly mouthed before he was taken away: _sorry hyung._

—

“You don’t have to do this.” Yuta tells him with a frown when Minhyung catches him on his break at the town hall with a container of leftover japchae his mom made the night before. It isn’t the first time he’s done this and he knows it won’t be the last so thrusts the container in Yuta’s hands despite his apparent concerns.

“But I want to, hyung.” He knows Yuta doesn’t pack lunch nor does he go outside to buy food on his break, saving up all his money for the remaining works to be done at the farmhouse. The town hall is close to his school and Minhyung often takes his lunch outside anyway so he figures he can just share his with Yuta, at least he can rest easy knowing the latter isn’t starving himself.

The older man asked him once why he bothers with someone he hardly knows when he should be hanging out with other kids his age. Minhyung doesn’t have the answer, which comes as a surprise for him too. He simply knows he prefers Yuta’s company over anyone at school; there’s just something about the older man that draws him in.

“They’re going to be talking about you.” Yuta says quietly as he pops the lid off the container. They’re sitting on the steps of the fire exit, away from prying eyes, but his consistent trips in and out of the building the last couple of days is still enough to stir the town folks’ attention.

“Let them talk then, it doesn’t matter.” That’s what Minhyung tells himself anyway. Yuta averts his gaze and begins picking at the food. 

“Hyung.” Minhyung interrupts the older man’s thoughts when he notices Yuta slipping further and further away, “Is it okay if I invite you to church sometimes?” 

Yuta’s eyes seem to harden at once and Minhyung nearly backs away in alarm, something cold licks at his skin and he swivels around in surprise. He’s met with silence; the staircase is eerily empty behind him, not a single echo of a footstep.

“What’s wrong?” Minhyung turns back to the older man and is greeted by those big, dark eyes staring intently at him. He doesn’t understand the heaviness that settles in his belly but he quickly brushes it off as something he might’ve eaten in the morning.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. So I was saying, I-”

“Sorry, I can’t. No one will watch over the kids.” 

“You can take them! There’s a place where they can play and eat snacks during the service. There’s other kids and a volunteer there too so they won’t be on their own.”

“They’re not used to other people.” Yuta swirls the noodles with his chopsticks but he hasn’t taken a single bite of his food. Minhyung watches him warily, afraid he offended Yuta with the invitation. He’s seen the cross the older man wears around his neck and jumped to conclusions. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

The apology seems to take the tension out of Yuta’s body because he sags against the railings and flashes Minhyung a gentle smile, “It’s okay. No harm done.”

Minhyung goes to church that day with a nagging sense of unease and he looks back over his shoulders many times to make sure he isn’t being watched. “Are you okay?” a fellow church boy asks as they’re cleaning up after the service. The hall is dark and empty and yet it’s as if the cries for salvation have been trapped within the thick walls, suffocating, unnerving. He’s never felt this way before.

“I’m fi-” then he sees it, a figure that rises from the shadows, and Minhyung’s first thoughts are ‘it must be someone who stayed back in secret, hoping to catch another glimpse of the supreme leader’ when the figure glides across the platform weightlessly, in front of the glowing cross. Slowly, more of the details melt away and the figure is nothing but a translucent blur when it phases through the wall.

Minhyung drops the candles he’s holding and clutches his chest in an attempt to calm his rapidly beating heart, “D-did you see that?” The other boy turns towards the platform where Minhyung’s pointing at.

“See what?” But the figure is long gone and Minhyung doesn’t know how to begin to describe what he saw. An apparition? He’s never seen one in his life, let alone in this sacred place supposedly devoid of all evil, “Hyung, what did you see?”

“I...I don’t know either.”

—

The first time Yuta takes the twins to town is a month after he finished up all the work on the farm. There’s now enough chicken in the coop to fill the silence and to keep them fed even on days when Yuta’s unable to go to town to fetch supplies. 

If it were up to Yuta only, his twins are never going to go beyond the fences of the farmhouse, he’ll never let them be subject to the scrutiny of the world around them, but they’re getting to that age where they’re becoming more curious and by extension, more prone to the dangers outside Yuta’s protective embrace.

“Do you already have friends here papa?” Yoonoh tugs on his jacket in excitement. He doesn’t seem phased by the long walk they have ahead of them, even as his sister began climbing up Yuta’s hip just a few minutes after they left home.

Yuta lets himself think about Minhyung, of his unguarded kindness and his naturally stubborn nature.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Will we meet your friend?” Yoona asks this time, her little head pillowed against his chest while he bounced her in time with his steps. 

“Maybe.” 

Yuta isn’t really expecting the younger boy to be traipsing in town in the middle of a school day, and he doesn’t look like the type to skip classes, so he doesn’t promise the twins anything. 

He brings the kids to the bakery first when they reach the town centre. They’re bundled up well against the autumn chill, with only their eyes and noses visible above the thick scarves and knitted wool hats. 

He makes a conscious effort of shielding the two little ones from view when Yeonhwa’s eyes linger for too long after she hands them sweet buns. The twins may have been brazen when they demanded to go to town, but they’re visibly nervous in big crowds and trailed after Yuta the entire time with their little hands gripping the hem of his jacket tightly.

They finish the sweet buns they got in three big bites after he sits them down at a nearby bench. Yuta looks on fondly as they try to brush the crumbs off their face only to get it all over their scarves.

“Hyung!” Yuta all but jumps up in surprise, startling his kids in turn. There’s only one person in town who’d call him that so affectionately. It isn’t a secret that his little family has been the talk of the town since they moved in and he knows that none of the rumours are anywhere near pleasant. It’s an effective way to maintain their isolation but it doesn’t seem to deter Minhyung from his intentions. 

“Minhyung, you’re not in school?” Yuta notes the casual clothes he’s in. They make him look older than he really is, especially when Yuta’s only ever seen him in his uniform.

“How come that’s the first thing you ask every time? I’m not a little kid.” 

“But you are a student.” He argues and sees Minhyung’s face fall. The boy, kicks up one foot and says,

“Today is a holiday, schools are closed. I’m on my way to the church.” Yuta spots Minhyung’s motorbike parked by the curb and wonders if the boy spotted them through his helmet. The younger seems to have seen one of both of the twins peeking behind Yuta because his eyes bulge in surprise before he sputters, “Your kids?!”

“Yes. They said they wanted to go out today.” Minhyung’s expression softens at once. Among the people he’s spoken to, the boy is the only one who’s never questioned his decision to keep the twins at home, and even on the rare occasions that the topic will come up, Minhyung never presses too hard.

“They’re so cute! How old are they?” The boy looks endeared but he’s careful not to overstep his boundaries, keeping his distance even as his eyes glow in adoration. The twins look up at Yuta in question and he mouths a quiet, “this is papa’s friend”. They relax almost immediately and Yoonoh even bravely jumps down the bench so he can get a better look at his father’s friend. Yoona does the same, a few moments later.

“They’re almost five.”

“Oh, I thought they would be younger.”

“They’re a bit small for their age.” A bit is an understatement. The twins look no older than three but that’s something perfectly normal for premature babies, and for twins nonetheless.

“Can I talk to them?” Minhyung seems inexplicably thrilled and Yuta can tell why. There doesn’t seem to be that many kids around the twins’ age in this town.

“Go ahead.” The boy doesn’t waste a second, already kneeling in front of the pair before Yuta could finish. For some reason, it doesn’t bother him as much as it should. Minhyung is a good person, just when Yuta thought none of those exist anymore. He endures having to listen to him babytalk the twins and then flush a deep scarlet when they answer him with silence.

“Sorry, they’re not very talkative either.” He takes pity at the young man and silently urges the twins while dusting the crumbs off their scarves. “Go on, you can talk to him.”

“Hello.” They finally say in unison, to Minhyung’s delight. He gushes over them for a little while longer until he gives up trying to make them smile and takes a seat next to Yuta on the bench instead. It’s a tight squeeze even with the twins now kneeled on the ground, picking random pebbles, but Minhyung doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“I’ve never seen twins before! At least not a boy and a girl. It’s amazing how alike they are, even the dimples are the same.”

Yuta tilts his head at that. “Never?”

“No, I don’t think a fraternal twin has ever been born in this town.” He nods at the newfound information, his eyes following the twins as they wander further and further away in search of the perfect pebble. He turns back towards Minhyung just in time to hear his sharp yelp and see his expression darkening as soon as he looks over at the twins who have their backs on them. 

“What is it?”

“Sorry, it’s just...I thought I saw the aggressive stray dog that’s been wandering around town recently.” The young boy stammers out the half-baked lie but Yuta sees the way his hands are trembling on his lap.

He looks over where the twins have come too close to the curb and recognises the excitement in his children’s eyes.

“I see.”

—

Donghyuck rarely busies himself with scriptures, but today he seems to find it more interesting than anything within his immediate reach. Minhyung suspects it’s because he’s gone through every book in their school’s library and is now just passing time until it’s time to head to church to prepare for the evening service.

“Hyuck.”

“Yeah?” 

“Remember what we talked about last time?” The younger boy peeks over the book in his hands and cocks an eyebrow at him.

“What, about the cafeteria food?”

“No. No. About, you know. The farmhouse.”

“Do you finally believe it’s haunted? Is that what your new friend told you?” Donghyuck carefully folds the book and gives him his full attention.

“I’m really not sure...actually, I don’t know. Just that...I think whatever’s in the farmhouse is following Yuta and his kids.”

“What?! Did he tell you that? Wait, doesn’t he leave the kids on their own in that house when he’s working?”

_There’s something on the kids’ shoulders. The shape of a hand, but with long and sharp claws protruding from each bony finger. But there’s no one there and no indication that the twins feel the possessive hold the hands have on them. A yelp is torn out of his throat but the demonic hands are gone when he blinks._

_“What is it?” Yuta asks in concern and Minhyung almost doesn’t hear him over the rush of blood in his ears._

Minhyung snaps out of the memory and shakes his head, “Yuta didn’t say anything. I just thought I saw something but it might’ve been lack of sleep.” 

Donghyuck gives him a flat look and tsks, flipping through the book to the page he folded at the corner in place of a bookmark, “Really, you’re getting me excited over nothing. This is why I told you not to take the leader’s preaching too much to heart.”

“Don’t speak like that about the leader.” But Donghyuck isn’t listening anymore, turning his back towards Minhyung to demonstrate his little interest in whatever lecture he’s planning to give. The exchange does give Minhyung an idea however.

He skips the clean up after the service that evening, tasking one of the younger church members to take over his duties while he follows the supreme leader out the door to his office as discreetly as possible. The man is in his late forties and has been gaining followers for the church way before Minhyung was born. If there’s anyone he can trust, it’s him.

“What can I do for you, Minhyung?” The leader asks when he makes his presence known, after everyone else has cleared the hallway. 

“Leader, there’s something I wish to seek your advice on.” He lets the desperation drip from his voice, his faith in the leader overwhelms the unease stewing in his belly. The older man’s eyes narrow, unlocking his office quietly.

“Come in then. Let’s talk about it.”  
  


That night, Minhyung dreams of a shadowy figure crawling on all fours from under his bed, the floor creaking under the phantom weight as he’s rendered paralysed by fear.

In and out, he takes shallow gasps of air, tik tak, it draws closer, his bed sinks and his ears ring with panic. He feels the wispy touch of a raggedy breath on his cheek and the prick of something shark gliding over his skin. 

He gasps awake just as the shapeless being comes into view, crawling over his immobilised body over his blanket, but not before he sees horrific, glowing eyes and sharp teeth.

—

Yuta doesn’t make it a habit to look into mirrors, his appearance is neither a priority nor anything remotely interesting enough to warrant a second of his time. There’s no longer any room for vanity in the reality he lives in.

Jaehyun once called him pretty, once, many years ago, in the solitude of their secret hideout in the field behind the orphanage, where they planted rose bushes and watched them bloom in spring. But being pretty doesn’t amount to anything anymore.

Still, there are moments where he catches his reflection in the mirrors dotted with rust and hairline cracks in the men’s toilets at the seedy clubs where he’s meant to wait for his regular clients. He glimpses his greasy hair over his eyes and the cut on his cheek before he can stop himself and draws a sharp breath at the sight. He wonders when he started to look like the personification of death itself. Was it when he was fired from his last job over a mishandled refund? Or was it when he first got involved in the gangs he used to regard in disdain and avoid like the plague?

Either way, there’s not much he can do anymore. He’s trapped in a bad place, a very bad one. Jaehyun would be severely disappointed in him.

He enters the toilets and locks the door behind him. He hears the scratchy voice from one of the occupied stalls almost immediately, “You have the stuff?” Yuta nods in response before he remembers the person can’t possibly see him so he squeaks out a small _yes_ before the stall door unlocks and creaks open. It’s not the guy he’s supposed to wait for.

“Sir? I think you’ve got the wrong person.” He supplies quickly and backs away when the man approaches with crippling certainty. He’s about Yuta’s height, but bulkier and as he gets closer, Yuta quickly realises he’s had something to drink. Of course, this is a club after all.

“What do you mean? Do you have the drugs or not?”

“I-I...It’s meant for someone else. Maybe your runner’s on the-“ Yuta doesn’t get the chance to finish because he’s slammed against the grimy tile wall, his breath escapes him in a surprised gasp as the man fists the collar of his shirt tight enough to cut off his air.

“You’re working for Jinwoo’s gang aren’t you? I’ve seen you around these clubs. I know you have some with you.” The guy spits in Yuta’s face as the latter struggles on the tips of his toes in an effort to alleviate the pressure around his neck. The man pats him down, lifts up his t-shirt and checks his pockets without abandon. Tears spring up Yuta’s eyes.

“Sir? Sir please, I’ll get in trouble!” He protests anyway and somehow manages to kick between the man’s legs. His attacker stumbles away, expletives spilling out of his lips as Yuta gathers himself and makes a run for the door. He forgets about having locked it and fumbles when it doesn’t immediately swing open. He’s pulled back by the hair before he could let out a scream; and anyway, who’s going to help a drug runner in the toilets of a cheap Itaewon club? No one.

“Please don’t hurt me!” He screams but it’s drowned out by the loud music, “I’ll give you half of it, please just-“ 

Yuta goes down with a sloppy kick to the head, pinned down the dirty floor by the man’s boot on his chest. The last thing he remembers is the harsh tugs on his clothes and the triumphant chuckle as the man pulls the small ziplock from his jeans’ pocket.

—

Yuta doesn’t know what prompts him to agree the next time Minhyung asks him to come to his church’s evening service. He cycles home after work and prepares the twins’ dinner before he leaves, planting a kiss on their dimpled cheeks and makes sure they have all three locks in place on the front door. 

He doesn’t like having to leave them on their own, especially at night but the fragrance of roses enveloping their home is enough to settle his heart.

Minhyung meets him in front of Yeonhwa’s bakery and they walk the entire way to the church after he secures his bicycle to the stand. He looks at the boy next to him, he’s a little taller than Yuta and quite lanky as should be expected of someone his age, yet he has a strong presence and a warm heart. Finally, Yuta realises why he’d agreed in the first place: it’s the sincerity in Minhyung’s kind eyes when he handed Yuta a thermos full of steaming potato stew he helped his mother make, with enough serving for three people, and the way asked him the following day if the kids liked it.

Somehow, this young boy manages to show him that there’s still kindness in the world they unfortunately have to be a part of.

The warmth in his chest gradually dulls into an ache the moment they cross the entryway to the church. It’s suffocating, more so that the solid concrete walls of the town hall. Minhyung must’ve felt him tense up because he places a comforting hand on his back.

“It’s okay hyung.” 

He leads him to the hall, where the service must’ve already started because he can hear the desperate wails and the throaty screams. It’s as vile as he imagined it to be, being made to sit cross legged on the floor as a man who calls himself their leader and saviour promises the ailing souls around him salvation. He recognises Yeonhwa and her husband, an elderly couple from the post office, and even a few young high school kids grovelling on the cold floor as if their God can hear their pain through this man’s ears.

“I shall vanquish all evil with the power I’ve been given,“

Yuta resolutely keeps his eyes closed amidst the noise so he doesn’t realise the man has stepped down from the platform until he’s right in the middle of the room. The leader steps over a couple of slack-jawed devotees and Minhyung, stopping right in front of Yuta. His eyes bore into Yuta like he’s searching his soul, scouring his memories.

“—I, the son of heaven, will lead you to the path of salvation—” Yuta clenches his teeth and his nails dig into the skin of his thighs. He manages to drown out the rest of his words until the leader strikes the man to his right, harder and harder each time “repent, repent for your evil deeds!!” and he keeps at it until the man stammers his gratitude through pale lips. 

Yuta takes a deep, steadying breath when the leader moves away to a different side of the room. He doesn’t realise he’s shaking until he feels a hand close around his, and he looks to his left to find Minhyung watching him with wide eyes. He turns away in spite.

His feet carry him to the exit as soon as the service finishes. Not even Minhyung’s quick reflexes can match up his speed as he crosses the doorway. He’s already halfway to Yeonhwa’s bakery when Minhyung manages to grasp his arm.

“Hyung wait! I’m sorry, I had no idea today’s service is going to be like that, normally the leader-”

“Screw the leader.” He explodes, chest heaving, and once Yuta starts, he’s unable to stop, “Why did you bring me here? Why did you want me to see that?”

Minhyung seems to have gotten over his initial shock at Yuta’s outburst because his expression settles on a frown. He lets go of Yuta and mumbles in a much lower voice, “Don’t speak about the leader that way. He does all those things because he cares, and I care about you so I want you to be saved!”

“I don’t need to be saved, Minhyung.”

“You do! You have-” The boy stops abruptly, torn. Yuta realises there’s something Minhyung is withholding from him but he doesn't have the energy to pry it from the boy’s stubborn hands.

“Get off my back. I don’t need anyone’s help.” 

—

He wipes the sweat beneath his eyes as discreetly as he can manage and watches Jaehyun from under his long bangs. The younger boy has his eyes closed and his hands clasped together in front of his face. Yuta wonders if his knees hurt like his do, pressed unforgivingly against the cold floor while they silently offer their prayers to the wooden cross at the altar of the small chapel. 

He wants to be with Jaehyun forever, he wants to hold his hand and walk out of this place with him one day. He hopes God doesn’t think he’s too selfish for it.

Jaehyun’s lips are moving but no sound comes out of them. He’s silently mouthing his praises, as they’ve been taught to do by the pastor. He knows what Jaehyun’s wishes are; to find the mother that abandoned him, and to find peace in the cruel world they live in.

Yuta envies his simplicity and his faith in people. Jaehyun is growing up fast, quickly outgrowing Yuta in just the last year, and yet he remains to be as pure as he’d once been as the little boy who snuck into Yuta’s bed every night. They’re family, the two of them, but Jaehyun also believes in another family outside the orphanage walls. One he hopes might want him back at some point.

The younger boy slowly turns towards him as if he can sense the attention and Yuta doesn’t have enough time to turn away so he just pretends to clear his throat and nervously runs a hand through his long hair.

“You should get a haircut soon.” Jaehyun says with a smile. He just had his not too long ago, his bangs cut in a straight line above his eyebrows. He looks like the son of a wealthy family, his manners are impeccable and his skin is supple like a baby’s and not peppered with acne like all the other teenagers his age.

“Soon.”

“It’s growing way too long.” He says, and casually tucks a strand behind Yuta’s ear. He knows volunteers look at them wrong when they catch them like this, they’ve been reprimanded many times over sharing Yuta’s small bed at their age.

“I like it long.”

“The pastor wouldn’t like that.”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Hate my hair long?” Jaehyun stops and seems to consider his question for a moment before he shrugs.

“I think it suits you.” There’s a brief pause where they just look at each other, and Yuta takes advantage of the moment to drink in the slight flush on Jaehyun’s skin and the uncertainty swimming in his eyes as he unclasps his necklace and holds it up between them. The cross swings slightly with the momentum.

Yuta looks at him in question, “Jaehyun?”

“I want you to have this.” He sits back on his haunches and Jaehyun follows suit.

“That’s the only thing you have of your birth mother.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He quickly regrets it at the pained look on Jaehyun’s face and he tries to soothe the other by taking the hand with the necklace in his, cradling them tenderly against his chest, “I can’t take that from you, Jae. That’s too precious.”

“And you’re more precious to me so I want you to have it. Keep it safe in your care.”

“But why?” Yuta doesn’t understand but Jaehyun has already pulled away from his hold, gingerly wrapping his arms around Yuta so he could put the necklace on him.

“So you won’t forget. So you’ll come back for me.” 

He bites his lip to stop the whine that almost bursts from his lips. Two years. He’ll be back for Jaehyun in two years, even if Jaehyun hadn’t asked him. He’ll get a job out there, earn enough to get them a proper place to live, and then he’ll come to get Jaehyun, and they’ll be together, always.

Jaehyun would leave this place with someone waiting for him at the gates. Yuta promises as he buries his face in Jaehyun’s chest. It gets broader and broader in time, and he hopes he’ll be there to watch Jaehyun grow up into the fine man he’s meant to become.

—

The dreary ache in his chest evolves into something fierce and searing, every day that passes without a glimpse of Yuta. He’d gone to the town hall a few times since the incident at church but Yuta’s coworkers turned him away every time. He knows he messed up, but it hadn’t been his intention to hurt the older man.

All he wants is for him to be safe from the evil that seems to follow him and his family. 

The wind buffets his body and the chill settles in his bones as the speeds across the rough road ahead of the dreary fields. His parents will be upset when they realise he’s skipping tonight’s service, but he can’t think straight, he hasn’t been able to, since Yuta walked out on him that night and Minhyung let him.

He doesn’t know how he finds himself on his motorbike in the direction of the farmhouse, he just does, but with absolutely no intention of intruding. Maybe it’s his conscience pulling him towards Yuta to make sure they’re safe.

What he doesn’t expect however, is the figure walking by the side of the road, dragging the familiar rusty, old bicycle. Minhyung brakes on the other side of the road, not wanting to impose, especially after their confrontation.

“Hyung.” He calls out softly but Yuta’s already looking at him in surprise before he moves to take his helmet off.

“Minhyung, what are you doing here?”

“I was just going for a ride. What are you doing walking? It’s so cold and dark out here.” Minhyung feels a trickle of relief at the lack of bite in Yuta’s words. He follows the older man’s gaze and sees the flat tires on the old bicycle. 

“I must’ve ran over something sharp or this bike’s just very old.” Yuta looks away, a little sheepish, and Minhyung feels a stab of guilt in his chest.

“Hyung…” When it looks like Yuta isn’t going to run away, Minhyung crosses the road after propping his motorbike on its kickstand, “Hyung I’m sorry about last time. I shouldn’t have made you come. I-”

“It wasn’t your fault. I decided to go.”

“I still shouldn’t have insisted. It doesn’t matter anymore if you don’t believe in what I do,” Minhyung sees Yuta’s eyes widen in the dark before he quickly schools his expression, “Actually, I don’t care what you believe in, just...just please don’t push me away.”

His face feels hot from shame; he keeps reinforcing the idea that he’s no longer a child but here he is throwing a tantrum over a man ten years his senior ignoring him for an entire week. He doesn’t want to let Yuta know that he’s still stewing from the fight but he also refuses to pretend that it hadn’t affected him like it did.

“It’s alright now, you don’t have to worry about it.” Yuta says softly and he’s smiling that smile that makes Minhyung’s breath catch in his throat. He’s so beautiful, with the wind ruffling his long hair and the moon casting its glow through the thick clouds on his face. He looks ethereal and Minhyung forgets what he’s upset about, lost in Yuta’s misty eyes, before he’s shocked into motion by the pinpricks of cold that hit his cheeks. It’s begun to drizzle.

“Come on, I’ll take you home before this turns into a downpour.” He clears his throat, unconsciously tugging Yuta closer by the hand towards his motorbike. It’s warm where their palms are connected and Minhyung chances a look at the other, and sees the way Yuta’s staring at their joined hands in fascination.

Minhyung clears his throat and looks away, “Hyung? Let’s go.” It does the trick because Yuta snaps out of his daze, his lips pulling in a frown.

“But you’ll be caught in the rain on your way back. I also can’t leave my bike here.”

“I’ll be fine but you have to get back to your kids. They’re alone aren’t they? Don’t worry about the bike, we can fetch it in the morning. Not many cars pass through this road so it shouldn’t be a problem.” After all, the road is the one that leads out of the town. Few people leave, and fewer people come back to this place.

“They’re not alone.” Yuta says softly but Minhyung barely hears him over the roar of the motorbike coming to life.

Yuta reluctantly follows him, climbing up the seat behind Minhyung after he tucks the kickstand away with the heel of his sneaker. Minhyung hands him the helmet which Yuta pushes back towards him, “I’m okay.” He says and adds, “I’ll get off right here if you don’t wear that yourself.” when Minhyung insists.

The farm isn’t very far from where they were, and while this isn’t the first time he’s passed by this area, it will be the first he’ll cross the fences leading to the old house that’s become the topic of many scary stories that circulate the town.

Minhyung follows Yuta who expertly navigates the dirt path to the house without batting an eye. The light drizzle has turned into a downpour by the time they make it to the front door. To his surprise, Yuta doesn’t fish for any key, and instead knocks on the door with a distinctive pattern. Minhyung recognises it as a code.

Several audible clicks are heard before the door swings open, revealing a pair of identical faces peering up at them. Yuta bends down to scoop the kids into his arms, “Papa!” they cry out in unison, burying their little heads under Yuta’s chin. Minhyung feels like he’s intruding on a precious moment and is tempted to take a step back into the rain.

“Come on in.” The older man chuckles when he notices Minhyung’s discomfort, “I know the house is very bare but we’re not really done furnishing it.” 

“No, it’s fine. It looks very cosy.” Minhyung toes off his boots and leaves them next to Yuta’s at the entrance. He isn’t lying; the house is bigger on the inside and only has the basic necessities like a couch, a small TV and a coffee table in the living room, but there are tiny, significant details that hint towards the family’s way of living. The blue and pink pyjamas folded neatly on the table, the discarded bottle of milk on the couch and the handmade dolls scattered on the floor.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll get you some dry clothes to change into.” Yuta lifts Yoona up and holds her against his hip, the little girl pillows her head on his chest and clutches at his sweater like she’s feeding off his warmth. The image brings a small smile to his face.

Yoonoh, who decided to stay back, takes a seat on the couch while they wait for Yuta to come back with the clothes. Minhyung stays by the door just so he doesn’t track water on the floor. “Hyung.” The boy pipes up, and grins from ear to ear when Minhyung nods in acknowledgement. “Hyung, come play with me!” He repeats the endearment, patting the small space next to him on the couch.

Minhyung smiles, and decides it can’t hurt to indulge the boy. He’ll apologise to Yuta about the mess on the floor later.

—

The throbbing in his feet is nothing compared to the shortness of breath that rattles his chest and leaves black spots dancing in his vision. Yuta squeezes himself behind the vending machine, hood pulled over his head and his backpack clasped tightly in his hands. His knees are shaking even as he hears the barrage of footsteps fade into the distance.

He lets out a shuddering breath when he confirms the men are gone, squeezing out of his tight hiding spot as quietly as possible. Yuta checks the time on his phone; he has ten minutes before the bus departs for Chuncheon. It isn’t how he planned to be back but there’s no way he can continue living in Seoul with a target mark painted across his back.

The orphanage is the only place he can come back to. He bites his lips and thinks about Jaehyun. This isn’t the promise he made to him all those years ago but he knows Jaehyun will understand, because he’s endlessly kind and he’ll always, always understand Yuta.

He makes a run for the bus, hand automatically reaching up his chest to grasp at the cross that’s supposed to lay over his heart, but it isn’t there. He gasps and stops just a few steps short of the bus.

The cross...he’d left it in the pocket of the jeans he shimmied out of as soon as he got back from the club. They’re in the small pile of dirty clothes in his bathroom. He wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be lost in case they catch up to him but instead he leaves it behind, of all things.

He takes a step forward, determined to leave but the guilt pulls him back. If he leaves now, his landlord will surely throw his things out or sell them, he’ll never be able to get the necklace back.

 _No_. He shakes his head in frustration, he can’t leave without it. Jaehyun entrusted that to him with the hope that he’ll keep it safe; it’s not just a necklace, it’s a small piece of Jaehyun, and Yuta refuses to part from him again. Never again.

So he does exactly what he said he’ll never do: he retraces his steps back to his apartment. Yuta keeps his head low and his eyes open, ducking into the shadows and blending into the crowd whenever possible. His apartment is exactly as he left it, with his things in disarray and a stack of empty cup noodles by the sink. It doesn’t seem like they’d been inside.

He makes a beeline for the bathroom and he eases up as soon as his hand closes around the familiar cross pendant inside his jeans’ pocket, relief flooding his chest. He puts it around his neck and grasps the cross in his hand; it feels cold, like Jaehyun’s hand that day. Yuta’s throat constricts and he shakes his head, he has a bus to catch and a promise to fulfill.

He goes around the apartment one last time, and makes a note to grab the last cup noodle in his cupboard before he slides out of the only home he’s known after leaving the orphanage. It will be the last time he’ll see it, he thinks, as he locks the door behind him. 

Eight steps takes him at the corner that leads to the elevators, and it’s as far as he gets before a hand closes over his mouth and drowns out his scream.

—

Yuta ends up making hot chocolate for all four of them when the rain refuses to abate and Minhyung is forced to tell his parents an elaborate lie to justify staying the night away from home. He’s surprised at how the kids are allowed to stay up so late but Yuta doesn’t seem to have any rules set around the house, but he understands why when he notices how well mannered the twins are and how helpful they try to be. 

Yoona stirs his hot chocolate for him and Yoonoh fetches him a blanket because it seems you’re only supposed to have hot chocolate with a warm blanket on your lap in this household. The thought is incredibly sweet and the townspeople's assumptions about the family become more ridiculous the more he watches Yuta shower the twins with affection.

“You know, you know, oppa,” Yoona tugs on the sleeve of his borrowed sweater a little after Yoonoh backs off following his twin sister’s tantrum because he’s been hogging all of Minhyung’s attention, “I think you look like a Mark!” 

Yuta snorts out loud while Yoonoh perks up, “She’s right! You look like a Mark!”

Minhyung cocks his head to the side and shoots Yuta a confused look when he doesn’t immediately offer an explanation. “Mark is a character from one of their old picture books when they were babies. You probably remind them of him.”

“Oh. How so?”

“You look like him a bit, the eyebrows and cheekbones.” The twins giggle in agreement and Minhyung finds himself joining in.

Minhyung can’t help but notice that they have only enough of everything in the house: just enough pair of chopsticks and spoons for all three of them and enough chairs and placemats, like the idea of having guests is the farthest from Yuta’s mind. He can’t blame him, the townspeople are not the kind you would want in your home after all.

After they finish their drinks, Yuta ushers the pair into the bathroom to wash up while he prepares two milk bottles on the counter.

Minhyung hovers over Yuta’s shoulders in curiosity, and it’s only then does he notice a spare cup with leftover grapefruit juice sitting on the counter. It’s the only thing they have an extra off, it seems.

“They still have their milk bottles?”

“Yeah, the weaning stage didn’t quite work out as planned. They promised to stop next year though.” 

“That’s okay. I know Donghyuck didn't stop feeding from the bottle until he was seven.” Yuta chuckles while Minhyung tries to get rid of the image in his head. “I don’t mean to be nosy or anything but...the kids’ mother?”

He remembers seeing a few framed pictures in the living room, most are of the kids growing up and one of a younger Yuta with another boy who looks vaguely familiar. There’s no woman in any of the photos, not even in the one where the twins appear to be just a few days old. There’s a brief silence that follows his question and he almost backpedals in fear of having offended Yuta again but the man simply shrugs after the pause.

“They don’t have one.”

“They don’t—?” They’re interrupted by the twins pattering into the kitchen with heavy little feet, screaming “Papa!” at the top of their lungs.

They barrel into Yuta, who catches them just fine despite his naturally skinny figure. “Done? Shall we go to bed then?” 

The older man looks over at Minhyung with a small smile after he brushes the twins’ hair out of their faces so he can check their teeth. “I prepared the mattress in the other room for you. I sleep with the kids so I’m afraid you’ll have to find your way around if you need anything.” Minhyung nods, saying his goodnights to the twins and Yuta before heading to the other room. 

He feels strangely heavy despite the progress in his relationship with the older man, and he wonders if it’s because it’s the first time he’s sleeping over someone else’s home. It may be Donghyuck’s stories getting to his head, or the strange recurring nightmares planting seeds of fear in his heart, but he tries to distract himself with an odd looking stain on the wall when he gets settled on the mattress. It’s obvious Yuta hadn’t been able to finish the paintwork and much of the house is still rough.

Eventually, his eyes drift close, eagerly allowing sleep to take over and bring a sense of calm he seems unable to achieve in his waking hours. To his relief there are no shadowy figures crawling from the corner of the darkened room in his dreams, no clawed fingers sinking into his skin.

The calm doesn’t last long of course, because he jerks awake some time during the night. The room is quiet save for the whistling of wind through the window. His throat is parched and scratchy like he swallowed sand and it doesn’t take him longer than a second to sit up, pushing the covers off his body, a little light-headed but somehow determined to get to the kitchen for a glass of water.

The farmhouse is big but it’s not too complicated to navigate in the dark, especially with the significant lack of furnishing, and Minhyung easily finds his way back to the living room. He feels off somehow, like he’s floating midair, pulled towards something. Someone.

The framed pictures in the living room catch his eyes again when he passes them and his feet stop without conscious intent. The boy beside Yuta in the picture. He now knows why he looks familiar: the dimpled cheeks and sharp gaze, they look exactly like — Minhyung’s lips part in realisation, before he jumps in shock at the sound of the windows rattling from the wind. Minhyung tears his gaze away from the picture, and for the first time, sees the muddy footprints from the still-locked front door, all the way down the hall. 

His heartbeat picks up, his parched throat forgotten as he rushes towards where Yuta and the kids are sleeping. It must’ve been what woke him up, an intruder, a thief. This isn’t something that would happen in a small town like theirs but he can’t discount the fact that the farmhouse is along the road leading outside the town, far away enough from neighbours and surely an easy target for burglary.

Except there’s not a single sound coming from the room when he stops right in front of the door. No signs of struggle, no strangled cries. Minhyung is rooted in fear, afraid of what he’ll see when he opens the door but he has to, the voice in his head is telling him to. 

He grasps the handle and twists, and the door opens just a crack, without a sound. The tiny sliver of light between the crack is enough for Minhyung to _see_. He inhales sharply and his hand falls limp against his side.

—

The sickening sound of bones breaking under the solid heel of a boot reverberates in the darkened space. Yuta thrashes pitifully, all the fight in his body turning to dust. His lungs expand harshly as he struggles to breathe, the pain blossoms from his broken fingers onto every single nerve ending like lava licking at his skin. For the first time, he wishes to give up, to submit to darkness creeping on him from every direction and let his unconsciousness carry him through the pain. They won’t let him.

A rough hand grabs a handful of his hair and drags him off the concrete floor just as his eyes begin to droop and he wails in agony. Please, he prays in his head, don’t let me be in any more pain.

“You really thought you could escape the boss, didn’t you? Where’s the money?” They repeat the question again, and again. Yuta still doesn’t have the answer but he’s tempted to throw just about anything if only so they’ll loosen their grip and let him fall to the ground.

But they’ll still kill him. 

“Answer!” They scream in his face, and another guy, the burliest one who’s been standing guard at the entrance to the abandoned warehouse approaches in slow steps.

“I don’t think he knows.”

“Fuck.”

“What do we do then? The boss wouldn’t have this.”

“Kill him.” The big man crouches in front of Yuta’s tear-stained face and grips his chin tightly between calloused fingers. They look like monsters, with their eyes glowing under the shadows that conceals their cruelty from the world outside the warehouse.

“What a big shame. He’s so pretty. We should just throw him in a few videos, make some money off him. You bet those rich old bastards will pay a fortune for them.”

“No, we can’t risk him escaping and going to the police.” 

A sob tears itself from Yuta’s chest and his throat is tight with fear, vision blurring from the onslaught of tears that pours from his eyes, “Please, I won’t go to the police! I promise! Please let me g-” 

He’s pulled to a stand by his hair and he cries out loud and reaches up to alleviate some of the pressure despite the pain throbbing from his broken fingers. He doesn’t see the glint of the blade nor does he notice the other guy coming up behind the big man. It’s too fast, and too dark and Yuta is meant to die that night.

Simple as that.

The blade pierces his flesh in agonising slow motion. He feels every twitch of his attacker’s hand, every breath that escapes his nose as it punches through an organ, or two. He tastes the blood bubbling between his lips and smells the sharp tang of it in the air. 

The knife is pulled back and then thrust in the same manner, a little higher this time, aiming to inflict more damage and this one is surely fatal because suddenly, he can’t breathe.

Yuta falls to a heap on the ground, arms and legs twitching and mouth opening and closing in like a fish out of water. Help, he tries to say, “Hel-p...me…” 

The cross on his chest feels colder than ever on his skin. With the remainder of his strength, he reaches up for it instead of trying to staunch the blood flowing freely from the holes in his belly, pooling under him. “Help me” he says more clearly as his assailants turn their backs on him. _I don’t wanna die_ , more blood spills from his lips as his uninjured hand curls around the cross, the grooves digging into his flesh.

He lets his eyes fall shut.

“Save me please…” He feels his life beginning to drain away, and so do the memories he’s locked away in a precious chest at the brightest corner of his mind. They flash behind his eyelids like old photographs before they fade into a foggy memory that eventually ceases to exist.

He sees one of Jaehyun, with his little dimples and big hands, his thick mop of hair and his warm hugs, of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and grapefruit juice in his favourite bear mug, of the scent of blooming roses and the feel of scratchy blanket dragging across his skin. _Jaehyun_.

“Jaehyun, save me….”

_one_

He hopes Jaehyun won’t be too sad when Yuta doesn’t come to pick him up as promised.

_five_

He knows he will, because Jaehyun can’t be without him, just as Yuta can’t bear the thought of being apart. He sobs, more blood dripping from his lips, he wants to be near Jaehyun. He wants to be together, even if he has to cheat death.

Because he promised. He promised.

_ten_

“So what should we do about the money?”

“Sell his kidneys or something, I don’t care. We’ll just tell the boss whatever.”

_fifteen_

“Go check and make sure he’s dead.”

_twenty_

Yuta embraces the darkness with one final breath, and lets himself be carried by the current of despair and loathing. He doesn’t hear the first scream that pierces through the air.

—

Donghyuck is looking at him in worry, which is a first. That must say a lot about how miserable he looks at the moment, hunched over the soup he’s stirring, the potatoes in it have already turned to mash. The leader’s deep voice carries down the hall and echoes in its passion even if they can’t make out the words being said. Tonight, he and Donghyuck are working in the back, preparing food for the loyal followers after the service. 

“What happened to you? You skip church once and you come back a wreck. Did something happen with Yuta?”

Minhyung turns a glare at the younger man, “Why does everything have to do with Yuta?”

“Because you’re obsessed with him. He ignores you for one week and—”

“I don’t like him like that.” 

Donghyuck’s eyebrows furrow and Minhyung knows what’s coming before he opens his mouth. “You do, but the leader’s words have gotten so deep in your head you can’t tell your little crush apart from your hero complex.”

The words strike a chord with him because he does know, he isn’t in denial, but he’s also aware of Yuta’s sad eyes laden with longing and regret. Yuta doesn’t seem like anywhere near ready to move on from whatever past he seems to harbour.

“Hey…” Donghyuck begins, taking the ladle from him before he turns the soup into gravy from how harshly he’s stirring it, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

But Minhyung isn’t listening to him, his mind is replaying the scene at the farm house like an old film reel that’s gotten stuck on a particular frame; the muddy footprints, the stain on the wall, the picture frames, and the ghoulish apparition with a pair of twig-like horns protruding from its forehead with eyes so black they might as well be gateways to hell, as it hovers over Yuta and the twins on their bed, possessively. Protectively. 

“Hyuck...You remember what the leader says about demons?”

Donghyuck seems to hesitate at the unexpected turn of the conversation but he mutters softly in response, “that they take on the face of a loved one to lure in the weak.”

Minhyung looks up at him at the same time Donghyuck leans away, “What if he’s wrong?”

—

The world outside the orphanage walls is daunting but he knows he doesn’t have to cross that wall to know fear and despair. The orphanage is a vicious place disguised as a haven for the abandoned, but for a long, blissful moment, Yuta forgets. 

Jaehyun was left inside a small church in Chuncheon right after birth, and Yuta, when he was only three. He has a good chance to be adopted, their caretakers would assure Yuta, because he’d been registered at birth while Jaehyun wasn’t. Then he turns ten and eight-year-old Jaehyun clings onto his arm begging for him to never leave, but it’s okay because no one wants to take poor little Yuta in, he’s too old they’ll say in front of him but he doesn’t look Korean at all, is what they really mean.

When he’s twelve the bullying becomes more violent but Jaehyun never lets them get away with it. He’s smaller but he’s stocky and he makes a habit of throwing himself at kids way older than him in Yuta’s defense. Yuta doesn’t like it, because he’s not Jaehyun’s responsibility and his life should never be traded for Yuta’s. Never.

So when at eighteen, eight days short of Yuta’s release from the orphanage, he’s dragged to the back of the building where his and Jaehyun’s little rose garden lies in secret, and forced to his knees by a sharp kick to his side, Yuta remembers how awful this place is. How much he detests it, and how easily he’s forgotten because Jaehyun makes everything bearable.

“You think you’re gonna make it out there _Nakamoto_? You’d die there in five minutes.” They holler and he’s grabbed by his long hair, his head forced back while the others pin him down. He sees their leader, the oldest kid, about Yuta’s age, come forward with a pair of pliers in his hand and feels his heart pick up and his sweat turn to ice.

“Open wide Yuta. They’re gonna love your smile—” but the guy is thrown to the ground in a split second, a furious Jaehyun raining punches all over his face and body like he hadn’t just gotten out of detention three days ago.

“Leave him alone you fucke-” Yuta’s eyes grow wide in alarm because Jaehyun is so blinded by rage that he doesn’t see it. One of the guys pinning Yuta to the ground jumps off him and grabs a rock from their garden. It’s the one they used to steady the rose stem that’s only beginning to take root in that bitter earth. 

“No! Jaehyun!” Yuta screams but Jaehyun doesn’t turn fast enough. He breaks away from their hold on him and stumbles forward with all the strength he can muster but it’s too late. He’s too late. The rock comes down on Jaehyun’s head swiftly, again and again. Time slows and everything blurs around them like they’re suddenly submerged in water and Yuta can’t breathe. He can’t—

“No! Stop! You’re going to kill him! Stop!” The squelch of flesh and bones giving under the jagged edges of the rock makes Yuta sick but he manages to wedge himself between Jaehyun and the other boy, taking some of the pain, and he will take all of it if he can. The attacks stop when the boy realises what he’s done, and it’s too late, Jaehyun is motionless and nearly unrecognisable under Yuta’s trembling body. There’s blood and gore on his face and clothes and the metallic stench of blood sharply permeates the air at the same time one of their attackers gags and throws up on the grass.

Yuta sobs as he watches Jaehyun’s life drain away, what remains of his once full and pink lips mouthing Yuta’s name, and Yuta desperately holds on, even as Jaehyun grows cold under him. The caretakers arrive on the scene minutes later and the paramedics are called only to confirm what Yuta already knows. 

He clutches Jaehyun tighter against his chest, feeling blood soak into his shirt, staining the cross under it. He’ll never let go, he yells through his tears, he’ll never let Jaehyun be alone again, ever.

—

“Was the room alright? You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.” Yuta finds Minhyung sitting quietly on the couch the next morning, before the sun has fully risen. The farm is even quieter at this hour, shrouded in early morning mist and solitude. He’s about to ask if it’s the persistent cold draft in that spare room when Minhyung swivels around to face him, wild panic apparent in his eyes.

“Hyung, you have to leave this house! It’s not safe for you and the kids—”

“What are you talking about?” Yuta notices the unfocused gaze and jittery hands and wonders if he’s seen something he shouldn’t have. He’s pretty sure he took care of the mud tracks before Minhyung had woken up.

“A demon, there’s a demon after you and the kids, you have to get away from here!” Minhyung doesn’t seem too far gone yet because he manages to keep his voice hushed despite his obvious distress. Yuta chances a glance behind him, just in case the kids do pick up on the commotion even though he knows they would still be sound asleep.

“You’re wrong. There’s no demon and this house is perfectly fine.”

“What about the muddy footprints, I know you saw them too because I saw the mop—”

“It’s fine. It’s probably just one of the kids playing around late at night. They sometimes sneak out when they think I’m asleep.” 

Minhyung grabs him by the shoulder, growing desperate now, “No! How can you not see it? The kids were asleep last night and I—There’s something haunting this place and it’s already attached itself to you, it’s no longer safe for you here. I can talk to the leader, they have a place at the church you can—”

“Minhyung.” He starts softly, prying the trembling fingers off his person with a controlled exhale, “There’s no demon.” he repeats, handing Minhyung his clothes from the night before, “There never was. The only ones living in this house are my family.” The young boy looks like he’s about to cry but Yuta steadfastly avoids his eyes.

“I think it’s time for you to go. I don’t want your parents to worry. I can get my bicycle myself in a little while.” He walks Minhyung all the way outside the property after throwing on a jacket, carefully making sure the boy doesn’t swerve off the path. When he’s positive that Minhyung isn’t too rattled to make the trip back to town, he sends him off with a pat on his shoulder, “We’re alright, Minhyung. Stop worrying.”

“But hyung, I forgot to say bye to the twins.” Minhyung says, more of an afterthought, after he puts his helmet on.

“Don’t worry, you’ll see them again.” and Yuta’s pretty sure that will be the case. Minhyung speeds away from the property but not before he shoots Yuta a final look. It’s one of pleading and Yuta knows no amount of reassurance will make Minhyung change his mind. He looks back towards the farmhouse in time to see a shadow of a tall man glide past the bedroom window, understanding dawning on him. 

Of course, it’s _him_.

The kids are wide awake when he comes back in, cuddled next to each other on the couch with the biggest smiles on their round faces. “You’re up early.” He says softly and Yoonoh erupts in laughter when Yuta pokes his belly affectionately. 

“We want to help you make breakfast!” Yoona pipes up energetically beside her brother even when her eyes are still crusty from sleep.

“How come?”

“Because we’re having chicken!” 

Yuta straightens up in confusion, “Oh?”

“Yes! Daddy visited and we’re having chicken!” 

Sure enough, one of the chickens from the coup is motionless and stiff as a rock when Yuta goes to check later, its head already missing from its body.

—

The gravel under his feet feels like quicksand, slowly engulfing him in darkness the longer he stays rooted in place. He can’t lift a foot, can’t see anything past the look of indifference on the woman’s face as she asked him to leave, rejecting Jaehyun’s ashes as she’d once rejected him as an infant, all those years ago. There’s no place for Jaehyun in her home, she’d said, not when she has her own little girl to raise with a man she married after abandoning her first child. 

Yuta clutches his chest, doing his best to take deep, steadying breaths despite the agony tearing him from the inside. Jaehyun spent his entire life longing for a family, for a mother, and Yuta thought he found her for him, after weeks of gruelling search, almost turning the entire city upside down so he could fulfill Jaehyun’s final wish. Even if it kills him to know he won’t be able to keep Jaehyun close as he’d promised. Except the mother Jaehyun pictured in his head is nothing like the apathetic woman who’d closed the gate on Yuta’s face at the sight of the cross hanging from his neck. 

“I don’t have a son.” She whispers firmly through the steel gate.

“You do! I’m sure it’s you, he has your eyes and h-he’s been waiting for you all this time! I just want him to be in peace.”

“I don’t think you understand, young man. I don’t have a son, I’ve not had a son since I left him in that church sixteen years ago, and I’ve never wanted him back since. Not now, and not ever.”

His cheeks are hot with tears, despite the cold breeze that ruffles his unwashed hair. _I’m sorry_ , he sobs, scrubbing his face with the sleeve of his thrift store jacket, _I’m sorry I can’t even give you this, Jae_. 

He knows he won’t get to keep Jaehyun’s ashes if she refuses to take them, the orphanage won’t let him, but his heart breaks at the thought of leaving his bestfriend by himself, in such a sad and cruel place, where his murderers are walking free under the protection of the people who were supposed to keep them safe.

Mothers are no good after all, he says out loud this time, but it’s okay, I’m the only family you ever needed anyway.

—

“What do you mean if he’s wrong? Did something happen at the farmhouse?”

Minhyung worries on his cheeks if only so he won’t break down in front of Donghyuck, in front of the many other young volunteers undoubtedly listening in on their conversation.

“I think I saw something I wasn’t meant to…” 

Donghyuck’s eyes widen, he sets the ladle to the side and subtly pulls Minhyung out of the room, towards the empty staircase. 

“Again? What did you see?” he finally asks when Minhyung finally gets his breathing under control. 

“A demon. There was a demon in the house with them, and it...” he swallows the sudden lump in his throat and tries his best not to be reminded of the grotesque image from many nights ago, “it’s wearing a human face...I think he’s Yuta’s childhood friend, I don’t know… but the face, it also looks like the twins.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? This has been happening a lot recently. Maybe you need to go home and rest.”

“I’m not imagining things! The leader believes me too! He told me Yuta and his kids will need help and—”

Donghyuck covers his mouth with his hand but he doesn’t manage to stifle the gasp that escapes his lips, “The scripture…” The younger boy says in shock and when Minhyung fails to follow, he continues in a panicked voice,

“The scripture! it says that the devil will be reborn twice, once as a girl and another as a boy, and I thought it meant it’s going to be at two different times but now I get it, why we never see a pair of twins in this town.” Minhyung recalls the verse the other is talking about and cradles his face because of course, it’s that one part he skims past every single time without much thought. 

“You’re saying they might be killing fraternal twins if they’re not the same gender?” He scoffs incredulously but the grim look on Donghyuck’s face sobers him up.

It’s impossible, the leader can’t possibly be sacrificing faultless children in his quest to cleanse the world of evil. Evil can’t reside in children still incapable of judgement, and surely no good man will commit something so heinous for the sake of salvation, but then he remembers the childless couple living next to the bakery, and the _children_ they buried right after childbirth, and the young woman living alone in an old ancestral house by the field, who’d supposedly given birth to stillborn twins a few years ago. Finally, he remembers the leader’s unusual interest in Yuta’s personal life.

Minhyung’s chest grows tighter at each recollection, “That can’t be it. It can’t be true...” he says, but he gnaws his lip because what are the odds indeed. 

“There have been talks about it, rumours going around town for years but it never made sense until now…” Donghyuck places a hand on Minhyung’s shoulder, anchoring him as he dwells on the terrible realisation, “It’s the leader, isn’t it? The one who’s been asking you to bring Yuta in. You also told him about the demonic presence following him and the twins.”

—

The next time he opens his eyes, all he sees is red. There’s a severed hand right next to his head when Yuta turns on his side and he scrambles away so fast he sees stars in his eyes and his body sags in disorientation. The hand had been cut off quite roughly, like it’s been torn away.

The stench is sharp and strong and Yuta’s stomach rolls when the haze in his head clears and he finally gets a good look at the warehouse, painted in the blood and flesh of his tormentors. There’s a headless body lying on its back just a metre away and Yuta sees the familiar knife right next to it, he steps on a piece of a scalp with hair still on it when he stands up on shaky legs and begins a slow assessment of the dead bodies—bits and pieces of it—before he decides to make his escape.

It’s dark still in the empty, abandoned warehouse but Yuta doesn’t have any trouble finding the exit a few moments later. The air becomes clearer as he nears it, the smell of death dissipating the farther he gets from the corpses. The door is only just a breath away when he remembers something, touching his stomach, or where the stab wounds ought to be, but there’s nothing but smooth skin under his ripped clothes. Isn’t he supposed to be dead, too?

He hears the growl before he feels the icy caress of cold air on his skin. Somehow, Yuta’s not scared, he doesn’t feel danger prickling under his skin nor does he sense any evil intent towards him. Whatever caused this bloodbath, it isn’t out to hurt him. He grasps the cross dangling from his neck and it’s warm, so incredibly warm.

Finally, a shape emerges from the shadows, a creature crawling towards him on all fours with a pair of long horns sticking out from its head, its eyes are completely black and its pointy teeth protruding from its grotesque mouth. Yuta remains still, only his chest rising and falling in steady breaths. 

The creature rises to its full height when it reaches Yuta, and while it dwarfs him in size, Yuta doesn’t feel a sliver of intimidation. Instead he reaches out and touches its face, slick with blood. Its mouth opens and guts spill to the ground between them. Yuta gags at the smell and he’s about to pull his hand away when the creature grabs it with its own scraggly, clawed one.

Yuta forces his eyes away from the gore and focuses on the creature’s eyes, so dark he can lose himself in them. “You summoned me.” The creature finally speaks, its voice so low it sounded like a mere vibration in the air but Yuta understands the words perfectly. He doesn’t realise he’s still clutching the cross over his chest until the creature pries his hand away from it, tracing the tiny details carved into it with its claw as it continues,

“I am yours, as your soul is mine to claim.” It’s at that moment Yuta finally recognises those eyes. The shape is different but unmistakable, and he closes the distance between them, sinking into the unnaturally warm and firm body, unheeding of the carnage around them. He feels a heartbeat, how curious. 

The creature, no, the _person_ smells like death and destruction but Yuta is drawn to the darkness that surrounds _him_ , drawn to the fragrance of roses that overpowers the rot and despair.

“You came back. You came back for me, Jae.”

—

Minhyung finds his brother on the couch when he comes home after the service. He hasn’t been going to church for weeks and their parents are understably upset. Minhyung used to be too, convinced that his older brother is being led astray by his misguided beliefs, but now he doesn’t know what to think anymore. 

He’s supposed to change into warmer clothes and be on his way to Yuta’s to warn him about the church but something makes him stop in his tracks in front of his brother. The older man looks up from his phone and frowns at Minhyung, “Hey, what’s up? You’re home early.”

He’s right, Minhyung would normally wait for their parents after the service so they can walk back home together. His brother has every right to be suspicious, especially after he stayed the night at the farmhouse without telling his family. He’s never lied to them, until that night.

“Why did you stop coming to church?”

“You too? I already told mom and—”

“I want you to tell me the truth hyung.” Minhyung interrupts firmly and his brother seems to sense the change because he puts his phone on his lap and squares his shoulders. He looks like the big brother Minhyung grew up looking up to at that moment, before his parents’ disappointment tainted that image.

“Because my actions will not be dictated by another man’s delusions.”

Something twists in his stomach at the words, “And what if you’re wrong? What if the supreme leader turns out to be the savior he says he is?”

His brother looks up at him and holds his gaze like he’s never done before. Minhyung realises it’s because his brother now recognises him as an equal, rather than a nuisance, “Then I’ll go to hell knowing I did what I thought was right.” 

The admission lifts some of the weight off Minhyung’s chest and he feels a strange sense of liberation. He stammers out a quick but loaded “Thank you hyung.” before he runs to his room to grab his things. His brother stops him when he notices the helmet in his hand,

“Are you going to the farmhouse again?”

“I am.” There are tense lines around his brother’s mouth and he looks like he’s debating whether or not to continue. He seems to make up his mind when Minhyung starts to tap his foot impatiently on the floor.

“One of my friends who still goes to church told me the leader and a few other followers left to see your friend at the farmhouse half an hour ago. He says they’re going to help exorcise the demon that’s been haunting them.” Minhyung’s breath hitches just as his brother continues with a distant look in his eyes,

“That guy, he has a pair of twins doesn’t he? A boy and a girl?”

—

The prostitute is one Yuta’s seen once or twice, hanging outside the clubs in Itaewon. She looks a little older than the others, possibly pushing mid to late thirties. She’s crying, thick rivulets of tears rolling down her heavily made up face and Yuta can’t take more of her shrill voice so he sits at the farthest corner of the room, hugging the urn to his chest. He fulfilled his promise, he came back for Jaehyun, even if he had to go against the caretakers’ wishes. It’s fine, they won’t be able to come after them from under the layers of earth Yuta piled on top of their mangled bodies.

He bows his head and waits until the worst of her pain is over. She’s cradling her huge belly as it ripples with the birth and Yuta keeps his gaze on the floor, still not used to the gore, no matter how many times they do this.

 _Help me_ , she begs, her nails dragging on the wooden floor, _help me please_

“Look at her. Look at how your children will be born.” A strong hand grips his face and forces his gaze towards the woman as she plants her feet against the cold floor and _pushes_. She looks scared and she should be, after all she’s carrying something very precious and if she doesn’t deliver them properly, Yuta will have to cut her up to retrieve his children, and he’d rather not make this messier than it already is.

A cry reverberates in the air after a long moment and Yuta carefully puts the urn aside and scrambles between her legs to find his, _their_ child, covered in blood and other fluids and gasping in between her weak wails.

He cradles the baby, small and fragile looking, and brushes his thumb over her brow bone. She doesn’t have any hair on her yet and her hands are too small to be capable of a grip, her lungs are not fully developed so it’s no wonder she’s unable to cry the same way most babies should, but it’s okay. She’s going to live, because she’s meant to, he and Jaehyun will make sure of that.

He doesn’t notice the second baby slide out because he doesn’t cry and Yuta has started to drown out the woman’s agonised pleas as she bleeds out on the floor, in favour of worshipping his newly born daughter. In fact, the other baby’s not breathing. Yuta nearly drops his little girl in his haste to cradle his new son, who’s visibly smaller than his sister. 

The little boy opens his mouth a heartbeat later, gasping for breath, little arms flailing as if there’s enough strength in those underdeveloped bones to hold them up. 

“They’re beautiful.” He says, tears already running down his cheeks. In the back, the woman’s cries begin to dwindle, her breath coming shorter and shorter.

He holds the twins closer to his body, and in the process, tugs on their umbilical cords. It’s only then he notices that the woman on the floor has finally stopped moving, eyes wide open despite the stillness of her chest. He looks on in morbid fascination but the feel of the little bodies squirming in his hold snatches his attention right back. 

“Aren’t they?” Yuta feels a strong and warm presence envelop him from behind, heavy breath fanning the side of his neck while he presses a kiss on each of the baby’s foreheads. _Jaehyun_ twirls a lock of his hair around a clawed finger, and trails wet kisses on his shoulder through his thin t-shirt. 

“They’re what you’ve always wanted.”

Yuta huffs a breathy laugh and turns to face the other. This close, he looks every bit like the man Yuta imagined Jaehyun would grow into. His chiselled face and strong eyebrows, his straight nose and healthy, pink lips.

“No. This is what _you_ have always wanted. A family. You have one of your own now Jaehyun.” The man smiles and Yuta tears up at the sight of those dimples he used to poke when they were kids. The kids will grow up with his face, in his and Yuta’s care, it’s like how they've always imagined it to be.

“Do you already have a name for them?”

“I do.” Yuta says, sniffling, heart filled with so much love and wonder, and tilts his head to the side so his Jaehyun can finally draw him into a much awaited kiss. 

—

The engine rattles as Minhyung pushes it to its limits. The farm is only a few minutes away but it feels like eternity as he zips past the empty fields and scattered trees. He swallows nervously as the farmhouse comes into view, the familiar van with the church’s logo printed on its door parked on the side of the road, by the footpath.

His mind is swimming with images, all of which are unsettling but one thing stands out in its impression. Demons take on the face of a loved one to lure in the weak, it’s a line he can recite in his sleep, but he’s beginning to think they got it all wrong...

_Behind the door is a man who looks to be around Yuta’s age, tall and broad with a pinkish pallor to his skin, his dark hair contrasting sharply against his all-white clothes. It’s the boy from the picture, but all grown up, a proper man whose eyes glimmer in affection, the gentle curves of his lips twitching as he strokes Yuta’s peaceful, sleeping face with tenderness. He leans over Yuta and the twins cuddled up to the latter’s chest, and kisses them softly on their foreheads before he straightens up._

_Minhyung holds his breath as the man slowly turns toward the door, his features morphing into something unrecognisable. His pupils bleed into the rest of his eyes, turning them completely black, horns springing from under his long bangs and his mouth splitting open to reveal a set of jagged teeth. Minhyung gasps and backpedals, heart in his throat._

_There’s no mistaking it. The man, no, the demon...it shares the same face as the twins._

The motorbike swerves to the side when Minhyung brakes, bumping slightly into the van but he doesn’t have time to be bothered.

They’re wrong, he finally acknowledges as he passes the rose bud beginning to unfurl from a single stem on the grassy patch next to the bedroom window. Demons don’t disguise themselves as someone dear to you, no. They’re tormented souls unable to let go or move on, permanently shackled to the mortal world by the unfailing love of the living.

The front door is ajar when he reaches it and Minhyung is knocked back by the unmistakable stench of fresh blood. It prickles his nose and makes his gut churn but there’s not a sliver of hesitation in his body when he breaks through the door. He definitely doesn’t expect to find Yuta kneeled over one of the oldest followers of the church, who’s sprawled on the floor on his stomach, body shaking in fear. 

Yuta has a firm grip on the man’s brittle hair, and a knife at his neck, the same knife he uses in the kitchen. He’s been caught off guard, it would seem, and he’s now seething with betrayal, his normally huge eyes narrowed into slits. The man sees him, eyes gleaming in recognition, he raises his hand, _help_ , he mouths.

“Hyung no!” Minhyung screams just as Yuta presses the tip of the knife into the old man’s windpipe, making a clean slice across his neck, the cut so deep he nearly decapitates the man.

Minhyung feels his knees turn into jelly as blood sprays everywhere, painting the walls red. Yuta wipes the blood on his face on the sleeve of his sweater just as he slides off the twitching body. Minhyung’s eyes follow the trail of carnage on the floor and finds two other church members lying in a pool of their own blood, one of them has an arm missing but the bloody stump is a mess, like it’s been chewed off rather than cut. Minhyung bends in half and spills the contents of his stomach at his feet as his head spins with what he’d just witnessed. He’s looking death in the eyes, and it’s in the form of the man he’s fallen in love with. 

“Are you here with them?” Yuta calmly asks, his voice deeper than how Minhyung remembers it. He wipes his mouth with the collar of his jacket, his fingers shaking badly despite his resolve. He wants to reach out for the older man, he wants to feel him and make sure that this is the same kind, and compassionate Yuta he’d gotten to know over the past months, but he’s scared. Not of Yuta, but of the darkness spilling from him, the anger and vengeance that sizzles from his core like the fires of hell.

“No! No...I-I came here for you...to warn you about them,” He takes another brief look at the mutilated corpses at their feet and swallows the bile in his throat, “to save you from them.”

Yuta’s expression softens, and Minhyung finally sees a part of the Yuta he knows through the fog in his dark and heavy eyes, “Then run away now. Leave while you still can.” 

“No! They’ll take you away from the kids when the police comes! They won’t care that you were attacked first. Come with me, I’ll take you away from here.” He doesn’t understand where the words are coming from but he knows he means every single one of them. He’ll help Yuta, keep him and the kids safe, even if he’ll be helping cover up a gruesome crime. He’s beginning to understand what his brother meant when he said he’d go to hell doing what he thinks is right, and at this moment this is what feels right to Minhyung.

“You don’t have to.” Yuta smiles at him, and there’s despair in his eyes when he approaches Minhyung with slow, measured steps. His socks are completely red, soaking up the blood on the floor and Minhyung’s eyes are drawn to them in equal parts fascination and horror. He wants to take them off Yuta, he wants to — 

The older man cups his face and tilts it up and Minhyung feels the press of lips over his before he can process what Yuta’s doing. His lips part in surprise and Yuta takes that as a cue to deepen the kiss. He tastes blood and a small hint of the hot chocolate the family must’ve been having when these men stormed their home. Yuta can probably taste the acid on his tongue and the desperation bubbling in his chest. Minhyung gasps for breath when Yuta pulls away, and he reaches out for him again but Yuta steps out of his reach.

“I’m so sorry Minhyung. You can’t _save_ us.” Yuta’s lips glisten from the kiss, so soft and smooth against Minhyung’s, and it’s all he can focus on as the shape of Yuta’s body against his own begins to fade alongside the warmth of his lips.

“If only I’d met you a little earlier…” A shriek cuts Yuta off mid sentence and they both turn to the direction of the bedroom, where the kids are presumably hiding. It’s only then Minhyung realises that the supreme leader isn’t among the bodies around them. 

“Hyung—!” He tries to grab Yuta but the older man is quick on his feet and he’s across the hall before Minhyung can catch his breath. The door to the bedroom is wide open and Minhyung nearly knocks into Yuta’s back when he rushes in after the latter.

The leader is alive, barely, whimpering on the floor as he chokes on his own blood. The massive creature is bent over him, its back turned towards them, blood dripping from its long horns as the squelch of flesh tearing fills the room. It’s feeding, Minhyung pales at the understanding.

The kids are on the other side of the room, huddled together next to what looks like an urn. They’re watching the horrific scene unfold in mild interest. Minhyung’s breathing quickens and fear consumes, locking his body in place. He wants nothing more than to cross the room and grab the kids, bring them to safety and he manages to lift a foot somehow when Yuta stops him with a hand on his chest.

“Don’t.” He whispers, his face serene. 

The leader takes his last, gurgling breaths before the demon snaps his neck. It seems satiated as it pulls back from the body, now looking in the direction of the kids. Yuta must’ve seen the panic in his eyes because he grips Minhyung’s jacket tighter, keeping him in place. 

The demon flickers and a sharp ache blooms in Minhyung’s temple. He cradles his head for a split second, closing his eyes in an effort to push back the pain. When he opens them again, a man is on his knees in place of the demon, white clothes stained with blood but his kind face is soft around the edges when he beckons the twins closer. Yoonoh and Yoona are running towards him in a heartbeat, eyes twinkling in delight like the man hadn’t just mauled a person to death in front of them.

“Daddy!” Yoona cries out, melting into the man’s chest like she does with Yuta. Yoonoh is looking at them expectantly and Minhyung realises he’s waiting for Yuta to join them. Minhyung nearly screeches when Yoona looks up and her eyes are completely black, like the man’s, and pretty soon Yoonoh’s own darkens as well. They look like two reflections of the man cradling them, pressing bloody kisses on the crown of their heads. 

“Yuta hyung!” Minhyung’s hand darts out and grabs Yuta’s wrist in a firm hold when he begins to walk towards them, “Don’t go. They...they’re not from this world.” He knows there’s no use telling the older man this, Yuta is perfectly aware of the evil he’s harbouring but it’s worth the try, Minhyung decides. His throat tightens, his eyes stinging from the tears he’s unable to shed.

“They’re my family.” The older man says in confusion, like he doesn’t understand why Minhyung would want him to abandon something so precious.

“You need to let him go. He’s gone isn’t he? That boy in the picture. You need to let him be at peace.”

“He is at peace. He’s with the family he’s always wanted. He’s with me.” 

“Yuta, you don’t have to follow them to hell.” The tears finally spill from his eyes and Yuta looks at him sadly, prying Minhyung’s hand off of him.

“But hell is the only home I’ve ever had, Minhyung.” And then he walks away, away from Minhyung forever. This time, he recognises the finality in his steps.

The demon is watching him with narrowed eyes. He’s human in appearance, but there’s no mistaking the malevolence flowing out of him. Minhyung doesn’t dare follow, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Yuta’s retreating back either.

Yuta kneels next to the demon, stroking his bloody face over the curious eyes of the children before he captures his lips in an all consuming kiss. The demon holds Yuta’s arm in a bruising grip, never once pulling away even as Yuta begins to groan from the lack of air. 

Those strong hands move up to tangle in Yuta’s long locks and Minhyung feels something weigh down on his consciousness. He slides down the floor in disorientation and the last thing he sees is Yuta’s contented smile as he gathers them close, a picture of an idyllic family.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Hurry up or you’ll miss your bus.” Minhyung flashes his brother a thumbs up after pulling his backpack over his shoulder. It still feels surreal, leaving the only home he’s ever known after convincing himself his entire life that this is where he’ll end up retiring.

His brother stops him to give him a one-armed hug before he pushes him in the direction of the bus, “Take care out there _dongsaeng_ , do your best in college and don’t worry too much about us.”

“I will. Take care of mom and dad for me, hyung.” He says in lieu of a goodbye. It’s been a whole year since his falling out with his parents following the incident at the farmhouse. There had been a huge ruckus in town after the bodies were discovered, and it had taken a lot of convincing from the police to clear the rumours about Yuta’s family after ruling the murders to be the work of some wild animal. No one else but Minhyung knows the truth of what happened that night, and not even he knows where Yuta’s family had disappeared to, leaving everything they own behind except for the pictures and the urn he keeps in the bedroom.

He’d left the church shortly after they buried the deceased leader, to his parents’ dismay, and they’d been quick to put the blame on his brother and the man their youngest boy had been associating with. They’re not wrong, if it weren’t for Yuta, he would still be blindly following the new leader they appointed.

For once he and Donghyuck had come to a truce, the younger boy finally looking up at him in respect, to a degree, for doing something he couldn’t. He’s still stuck serving under the restructured church, unable to break away from his parents’ influence. Soon he will, Donghyuck promised during their last meal together, as a form of send off for Minhyung.

He boards the bus, watching his older brother wave at him through the window. From this vantage point the town looks smaller than ever, and in the distance he makes out the cross on the spire of the church, looking out of place in a town surrounded by rice fields and isolation. It’s an oppressive structure, taking the place of the sun when darkness blankets the townspeople’s faith.

A tall man takes up the seat next to Minhyung and he looks at the guy in confusion, pretty sure that it’s not someone he’s met before.

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all. Are you visiting?”

“Ah yes,” The guy scratches his ear sheepishly and it’s only then Minhyung notices the camera bag slung around his body, “I’m a journalist, you see. I’ve heard a few interesting stories about this town so I was hoping to get some scoop.”

Minhyung snorts at the straightforwardness, “I don’t think you should be telling just anyone that. There’s ears and eyes everywhere here.”

“Sure, that’s true, but I didn’t get anything substantial anyway. Just loads of ghost stories.” The man sighs, tucking his camera bag between his legs. 

“I can tell you a few things, if you’re still up to it.” He says before he can stop himself, watching the man’s eyes double in size.

“Do you have anything useful for me?” 

“Oh you bet I do.” Minhyung huffs, unable to remember the last time he felt this carefree. The engine rumbles and the bus pulls away from the station just as the man offers his huge hand for a proper introduction, 

“Johnny by the way.”

Minhyung smiles, shaking the other’s hand awkwardly, stifling the urge to bow, “I’m Mark.”

**Author's Note:**

> Someone told me this is gory and sad rather than scary but i do hope someone was at least unsettled by my attempt at horror.
> 
> Also this took me nearly 2 months to write, and by far the longest one shot I’ve posted. I think i bit more than i can chew for this but I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out. The death scenes were definitely hard to write, they made me sad, above all things.
> 
> Now i need to write happy yujae to compensate for this....


End file.
